


diet mountain dew, baby

by Nori



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Drabble Collection, F/M, Sara 'Dumpster Fire' Ryder, all that sweet game dialogue, also Sara 'kind of a huge asshole' Ryder, kind of, literally just like more of the same but less well written than everything else on ao3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nori/pseuds/Nori
Summary: Reyes isn’t exactly sure what he’d expected, but watching the Pathfinder cheerfully strip every scrap of valuable material off the bodies strewn throughout the cave is not it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk man everyone has these really great, lovely Ryders and mine is just a shitty person with shitty taste in men ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title is absolutely from Diet Mountain Dew by Lana Del Ray.
> 
> Shout out to the Heleus Icon armor for making Ryder's ass look A++

Reyes isn’t exactly sure what he’d expected, but watching the Pathfinder cheerfully strip every scrap of valuable material off the bodies strewn throughout the cave is not it. He’d suspected, of course, that the Pathfinder must be at least twice as deadly as she looked - and with purple biotics sweeping out around her feet like a ring of deadly smoke she certainly doesn’t look harmless - but her lack of concern for the recently deceased is downright Kadaran. 

She rolls a Roekaar corpse over, ignoring the mangled arm that flops grotesquely with the movement, and yanks an assault rifle free of one lifeless hand. Scraping gore off the gun with the Roekaar’s own armor, she cracks a joke with her krogan squadmate. His reply is a low rumble, the exact words lost to distance, but she tosses her head back and laughs, bright and joyous. 

Be still his damned heart. 

Ryder might look squeaky clean and offer help left and right like a goody two-shoes, but this… This is not the paragon of easy, peaceful life the Nexus has been trying to sell. This is a woman who knows how to survive and isn’t afraid to do it. 

With her new assault rifle strapped to her left shoulder, she drifts deeper into the cave. She bends to inspect the gruesome pile of adhi, ripping scales off and pocketing them with casual indifference, before hopping up the rocks to the second level. Her squadmates mill around on the bottom floor while she pokes around for a minute. 

“Oh, Reyes,” she calls, sing-song. “Look what I found.”

He turns to watch her descend, wrapped in biotics to control the rate of her fall. She touches down with a little grunt and pops upright, waving a datapad at him vigorously. 

“They kept really good logs,” she reports casually. “Especially the ones about killing the locals.”

She flips the datapad toward him and smiles, a sweet expression that he’d put far too much stock in before today. He finds himself smiling back at her as he takes the datapad, barely able to pull his eyes from her face as he flicks through the information on the screen. 

“And now they’re dead,” he agrees easily, trying to curb his smile. At least a smirk would be more roguish. “Don’t you love a happy ending?”

Her eyebrows quirk upward and then she’s slinking past him, far closer than necessary. Her chest plate brushes against his arm and he cranes his neck to watch her go. Whatever her fancy armor is, it certainly accentuates her… assets. 

When he straightens his neck out, he finds himself face to face with the krogan. The heavy alien snorts, clearly finding him lacking - not a sensation Reyes is inexperienced with - and lumbers past him. Ryder’s other squadmate, the turian, makes a sound that is absolutely a barely concealed laugh and follows. 

She’s waiting for him at the top of the stairs, and he spares a moment to lament not trailing her more closely. What a waste of a view. Of course, it’s not bad, per se, to keep things between them at least in the same neighborhood as professional. The flirting is fun, but she’s a double edged sword, as dangerous to him as she is to Sloane, and he knows it. 

“The streets of Kadara are safe again,” he proclaims as he mounts the final steps. “You did good Ryder. Don’t worry, I’ll let all the important people know who to thank.”

And by doing so, take a lot of heat off himself and the Collective. 

“We make a good team,” she smirks, all mischief and bright eyes. God, but she is a dangerous woman. 

“Careful,” he chuckles, slipping into her space as she’d done to him before. There’s barely a hair’s breadth between them from shoulder to hip and she has to crane her neck back to look him in the eye. “I’ll start thinking you like me.”

The change comes over her all at once. Her eyelids drop, her lips part, and when she speaks her voice is low and smokey. 

“Would that be so bad?”

Oh, it would be so very bad, but the thought is already wriggling its way deep into his mind. What would it be like, to have the Pathfinder? To race down this deadly road with Sara Ryder and see where the finish line left them?

It’s not a thought he has time to indulge in.

“Depends,” he muses, taking half a step back and shaking some sense back into his thick skull. “Don’t be a stranger Pathfinder.”

He hears her laugh as he escapes out the door and his heart beats a little faster in his chest. He shouldn’t let himself even think about what just happened - not if he wants to keep steering her toward Sloane’s inevitable demise - but that dark look in her eyes, the promise in her voice. The risk is almost worth it. 

Besides, this is Kadara. Courting danger is just another part of the daily routine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh. Date night.
> 
> 1\. I'm basing this Ryder on my very first playthrough. I entered blind, I had no idea Reyes even existed, it was like a sucker-punch when I got to Kadara. The moment I met him I thought, "Oh no, he's _trouble_ ," followed closely by the thought, "oh no, I'm going to love him." It was a real struggle. 
> 
> 2\. In the same vein, I was positive as I played through Kadara, that Reyes was way more than he appeared. I had him pegged as the Charlatan by the time we wrapped up the whole Zia debacle. So like, I was thoroughly blase about the big reveal. I spent most of that mission apologizing to Sloane for my incredible bias and LAUGHING MY ASS OFF at how dramatic that duel was. My Ryder will probably be about the same if I write it, tbh.

“Take the night off, come out for a drink. I should have known you were up to something,” she taunts, smiling despite her resolution to be annoyed with him. 

“Ryder!” He yelps, lurching to his feet. “It’s not what it looks like.”

_Yeah, okay buddy._

“So you didn’t use me as a distraction to steal shit from Sloane?”

He takes a breath to defend himself, then thinks better of it. “Okay, yes,” he laughs ruefully. “But it’s for both our benefit. I promise.”

“You’ve been making a _lot_ of promises,” Sara fires back playfully, but rather than the smooth reply she expects, a sudden tension steals over his face. Immediately she’s on guard. 

“Shit, someone’s coming,” Reyes hisses. “We need a distraction.”

Sara almost laughs. This is not her first rodeo. Getting caught in places she shouldn’t be, with people she’s not supposed to be with, is just another day in the office. 

Bouncing onto the balls of her feet, she grabs ahold of his elbows and hauls him down into a kiss. He makes the most delightful sound of surprise before settling into it. As his hands come to rest along the top of her hips, she curls her palms around his biceps, absently rubbing her fingers over the ridged material of his sleeves. 

It’s a decent kiss, his mouth is soft and he’s _just_ tall enough to tilt her head back, but they’re only going through the motions. Sara can feel the tension coiled in his shoulders, and his rigidity sets her awareness ticking up a notch. She’s already been warned by Kaetus to keep her head down and she doubts any amount of making out with Reyes will be enough of an excuse for Sloane. 

She hears someone jerk to a halt behind her, the creak of armor, a cleared throat, a muttered apology. The Outcast retreats down the hall, footsteps hurried, and Reyes draws away. She opens her eyes and looks to him to gauge their situation. His face is all hard lines, so different from the mild, amiable half smiles he usually employs, diamond sharp and laser focused. 

_Oh_ , she thinks. _Oh, you are so much more dangerous than you’ve made yourself out to be, aren’t you, Reyes Vidal?_

His eyes flick back to her, and all the menace drains from his features. Is it part of an act, an effort to keep the Pathfinder in his pocket in case he needs the leverage? Simple relief that they’ve gotten away with trespassing in Sloane’s private stores? Or, God forbid, is Keema right and he just genuinely likes her that much? 

Maybe it’s all three, but there’s a little fizzle of joy tickling her lungs at the last thought. She’s playing with fire, letting herself get involved with a man who’s clearly no good, but what the hell? Tomorrow she might die duking it out with exiles or battling kett or racing for her life through a remnant vault. Why not take whatever crumbs of happiness she can get while they’re available? 

“I think we’re in the clear,” he reports with evident humor. 

Delight bubbles up into the back of her throat. “Maybe another kiss?” She suggests, batting her eyes at him impishly. “Just to be sure.”

He huffs a laugh, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to her lips. “Now you’re just teasing me,” he murmurs lowly. She giggles as he returns to the storage crates he’d been pawing through when she’d interrupted, digging around intently. His lips part as he concentrates, and the expression is so endearing that Sara has to bite her tongue to keep from commenting. She finds herself hoping she gets to kiss him again, slow this time, feeling each other out. 

“Finally!” He exclaims, excavating a bottle and swinging toward her to hold it aloft triumphantly. “Here it is.” He hops off the container he’d clambered onto during his search with a little grunt. 

She plants a hand on her hip. “Whiskey,” she says flatly. It’d been whiskey when they’d first met in Kralla’s Song, too. If this keeps up, she’s going to have to tell him she’s more of a tequila girl. 

“The only bottle of Mount Milgrom in Andromeda,” he explains seriously. Feeling terribly, unduly fond of him, she barely maintains a straight face while he details all the major sale points. She recalls the predatory look he’d leveled over her shoulder when they’d been in danger of being caught, and compares it to the softness in his jaw now, his lowered eyelids. He’s almost like a different person, but she can appreciate that. Kadara has shown her how cutthroat it can be. She doesn’t doubt the people who call it home are any less ruthless, no matter how amenable they make themselves appear. 

He quirks his odd half smile at her as he finishes his spiel and she can’t refrain from smiling back. “I hope you’re planning on sharing,” she hums, tipping her chin down so she has to look up from under her eyelashes. It’s a trick that’s always worked on people taller than her. 

He breathes out a laugh, watching her with knowing eyes. He’s certainly not the tallest man alive. Maybe he uses the same trick when he’s angling for free whiskey and a kiss too?

“We’ll see,” he offers gamely. In a rush, he grabs her hand and tips his head toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

She lets herself get pulled along willingly, feeling breathless and foolhardy. They careen through the streets of Kadara Port, and she follows him blindly, trustingly. A group of exiles loitering in the narrow mouth of an alley trip them up, Reyes skirting around them by the skin of his teeth, and Sara bursts into frenzied laughter. She snags his forearm with her free hand to steady herself, stumbling against him as her knees grow weak. He staggers, off balance from her weight and his own laughter, and tosses her a look over his shoulder. And _ah, there it is_ , the first real smile she’s seen on him since they’d met. 

“Where are we going?” She gasps, though she doesn’t care about the answer. She just wants his attention on her. 

“Why spoil the surprise?” He counters, squeezing her hand and guiding her around another twist in their circuitous path. 

She grins sharply, heart thundering in her chest. _Okay, Reyes,_ she thinks wildly. _Surprise me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like Sloane Kelly, in that morally gray antagonist kind of way. Like the real struggle on Kadara would have been if both Sloane and Reyes were romance options. Then I'd have been really screwed. 
> 
> For the record, my Ryder is a dumb ass who almost exclusively dates bad people. She knows it, she's resigned to it, she's just waiting for Reyes to follow suit. 
> 
> Abrupt ending yay
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Sara presses her forehead to the wall, pressing her fingers against her eyes until red spreads across the back of her eyelids. Forcing herself to breathe slow, she tentatively turns her mind to the issue of Kadara again. The vault had been easy enough, in the scheme of things, to reactivate and Kadara’s water was improving by the day, but she was no closer to having an outpost there. She’d almost be happy to have the kett making a fuss on the planet if it freed her from the tediousness of navigating the local government. 

On the one hand, Sloane Kelly. The extortion and drugs aren’t particularly pleasant, but she’s managed to keep things in hand so far. A solid mind for tactics, loyal followers, and a clear determination to survive no matter the cost. She’s a tough woman, and Sara knows her flippancy has not endeared her to the old soldier. It’d be easy to hate Sloane, for the people like that angara Sara’d watched getting beaten in the street or Remi Tamayo who’d almost been brutally murdered for a bookkeeping mistake, but Sara can’t quite bring herself to it. Not after seeing Sloane playfully teasing Kaetus and personally seeing to the last remnants of the kett on Kadara. She may not be the best option for ruling the port, but she may not be the worst either. 

Especially given the most obvious alternative. The Charlatan and their Collective look like a better option at first glance. The soup kitchen in the slums and Dr. Nakamoto both have been privately funded by the Charlatan, even without an explicit immediate benefit to the Collective. When she’d stumbled upon their base in Draulir, the Collective operatives had given her free range to snoop around and she’d found both Lynx and Crux perfectly pleasant to speak with. She’d even helped them with their little traitor problem, which had felt mildly patronizing (“oh, let the Pathfinder help us with something small and maybe she’ll feel more inclined to trust us”), but two could play that game anyway. If the Collective wanted to believe she was in their pocket, all the easier for her. At least that was only one group of assholes out in the Badlands trying to shoot her. 

Sloane’s violence was on full display, available for anyone to see and, for the low low price of not being able to afford protection fees, available to experience first hand. The Collective’s violence was hidden behind locked doors and in isolated towers, but it was just as present. Sloane was obvious about her dislike for Sara, even before she’d curtsied, but the Charlatan was unmistakably trying to woo her. Open brutality or cloak and dagger bullshit. 

It puts her in a fucked up situation. Help solidify Sloane’s position, or take a gamble on the Charlatan. 

“The devil you know,” she mutters sourly, hearing her voice echo back off the smooth metal of the Tempest. 

“Pathfinder,” SAM says, interrupting her swirling thoughts. “Perhaps you would benefit from discussing your concerns with another?”

“Well, SAM,” Sara grumbles with forced patience, “so far all I’ve gotten from my team is ‘ugh, Kadara _again_?’ and ‘ew, it smells like rotten eggs,’ so not a lot of help there.”

“Perhaps Mr. Vidal would have some insight in the matter?” SAM suggests. 

“Right,” Sara snorts, “because _Mr. Vidal_ doesn’t have a vested interest in who’s ruling Kadara.”

“He is not affiliated with either the Outcasts or the Collective,” SAM replies. 

“He doesn’t need to be,” Sara sighs, “to prefer one to the other.”

“I was under the impression you like him, Pathfinder,” SAM says, uncertainty discernible even without inflection. 

“I do like him,” Sara shrugs. She likes him a lot, if she’s being honest. “I just don’t trust him to give me the whole truth.”

“You suspect he will tell you a partial truth in an attempt to influence your decision.”

“Brilliant deduction, SAM,” Sara mutters. 

“Sara, may I ask you a question about your relationship with Mr. Vidal?” 

Sara thunks her forehead against the wall. “Might as well.”

“In my experience, affection and trust are closely related,” SAM informs her. “How is it that you can care for Mr. Vidal while being so distrustful of him?”

“It’s complicated, SAM,” she grumbles. “Humans don’t always do things that make sense. Sometimes we like things that are bound to hurt us. Besides, it’s not that I completely distrust him.”

“I do not believe I understand,” SAM responds. 

“Well stick with me long enough and you’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn,” Sara laughs bitterly. “I’ve always had a thing for bad boys destined to break my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look I just... can't stop laughing at SAM telling me to visit Reyes. It's like clock work every time I get to the planet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I want more secrecy surrounding Reyes’ identity yo. Everyone and their mother is like “WHEN YOU SAY THE CHARLATAN, YOU MEAN REYES VIDAL, THIRD RATE SMUGGLER AND RESISTANCE AGENT CODENAMED SHENA?” and I just hate it. So goddamn it, we’re gonna keep it quiet in my version of this galaxy.
> 
> 2\. Believe me, I love all the fics where Reyes and Ryder are totally smitten and everything is sweet and mostly wonderful, BUT the game’s timeline is iffy and I didn’t feel like Reyes and Ryder had a lot of time to get to know each other. I believe Reyes’ feelings for Ryder are genuine, but I think that relationship would need a lot of time and careful cultivation before he’d be willing to go all in.
> 
> 3\. I don’t dislike any of the companions, I swear. If you read any negativity about them here, it’s 100% my Ryder.
> 
> 4\. Drack is the best space grandpa a kid could ask for.

Sara leans against the wall next to Drack, sipping at her drink pensively. Originally she’d shrugged off Liam’s barb about Kadara looking the same, but his words have returned with a vengeance. It does appear largely unchanged, she’d agree with that assessment. There are more angara in Kralla’s Song than there had been before, but Sara would bet her right arm that’s more Keema than Reyes. The protection fees, and subsequent beatings, are gone, which looks nice for visitors.

The Collective takes their due nonetheless, and skipping out on their fees is probably more lethal than a beat down. People die, either way. Sara’s stopped doing the math.

“Everything looks pretty much the same with the Charlatan in charge,” Liam said. Arms folded, disapproving, tucked in the corner of the bar. But the more she thinks about it, the more she wonders: why does that matter? Why does that surprise anyone?

Kadara Port belongs to the exiles. They took it - Sloane took it for them - when they had nothing else to call their own. What’s a change in leadership matter to the regular folks just scraping by? The Collective is no more likely to disrupt the day to day habits of the people than the Outcasts had been. Anyone on the bottom of the shitpile doesn’t care if the people at the top waste their time killing each other. It’s a hard life, carving a place in a hostile world, but it’s the life they’ve made. Short of physically removing the exiles, which would probably take more ammo than the Nexus is comfortable handing out, Sara doubts anything could really change Kadara now.

If anything about this bothers her, it’s the angara. Not just on Kadara, but throughout Heleus. She’s tried, despite her spiteful desire to succeed at everything Tann and Addison have fumbled, to be fair to the angara, but in the end, she’s levering the Initiative’s ability to aid with the kett against them in return for basic needs like shelter and food. It irks her, but aside from being as fair and respectful as possible, she doesn’t know what else to do. Like everything else, it’s a rub she’ll learn to endure. 

“You look like you’re thinkin’ hard, kid,” Drack rumbles.

She blinks, passes her eyes over the revelers and drunks, feels the music vibrating under her skin.

“What do you think about this?”

“Kralla’s?” Drack asks, shifting on his feet.

“Don’t play dumb,” Sara mutters, rolling her eyes. “The Charlatan.”

“I think it’s hard to trust a guy like that,” Drack shrugs, eyeing her seriously. “But then, I don’t have to.”

Sara buys herself a second with another sip from her cup. “As far as Kadara Port goes, neither do I.”

“And the outpost? You’re not worried he’ll get any bright ideas?”

“He’s got my outpost, but I’ve got his identity,” Sara replies. She wags a finger, playful if not for the dark look in her eye. “He knows I can ruin him.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” Drack sighs with pleasure. He gives her a long look. “What about you, kid? You’re not just business partners.”

Sara exhales slowly. “I like him,” she mutters reluctantly. “I think he likes me. I’m positive things between us wouldn’t stop him from going after what he wants.”

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” Drack warns.

Sara chews on her lip. If anyone in her crew won’t judge her, it’s probably the 1400 year old krogan, but she’s not particularly fond of making herself vulnerable. She must have met her quota on that for the next year just sorting things out with Reyes. But it could be nice to have someone hold her up for a minute.

She slumps, sliding along the wall until her shoulder collides with Drack’s arm. “Things are still really new,” she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face. “If we ever get a chance to slow down and work at it,” she shrugs, embarrassed to admit to this tiny, glowing hope deep in her chest, “maybe things will change.”

“For what it’s worth, kid,” Drack tells her, leaning down toward the top of her head, “my gut says he’s not faking this.”

“Aren’t your guts mostly synthetic?” Sara teases, though warmth flushes through her.

“That’s why I said, ‘for what it’s worth’,” Drack retorts, chuckling at his own joke. Sara shakes her head, biting her tongue to keep her own laughter in check. “And anyway, I have no doubt you’d kick his ass if he ever did you wrong.”

Sara smiles, bumping her elbow against Drack. She has no doubt she could beat Reyes in a fight - he plays dirty, but so can she. And she usually does it with a krogan in tow.

“I’d have to get in line,” she jokes quietly. “Cora already promised to punch him through a wall.”

Drack barks a laugh, wedging his arm between her and the wall to give her a hard slap on the back. “You’re alright, kid,” he says fondly. “You’re alright.”

She hopes so. God, does she hope so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've dodged all of bioware's past relationship bombs, so if I have to go down with this one, I'm gonna do it in style. Wreck me bioware, I'm ready. (I'm not ready.)


End file.
